Broken
by LilliasCraven
Summary: Post Trenzalore and Post 50th Anniversary. The one person The Doctor couldn't save was the one to save him. Whouffle. How I'd like the regeneration to go.
1. Chapter 1

His impossible girl's broken body felt weightless in his arms.

He'd thought they were free. He'd thought he could just turn his back on his darker self, the one who broke the promise. He was wrong.

So much loss...even the joy of seeing Rose again could not heal the pain of all the loss. There was a reason he should never have jumped into his timestream, he should never have met his previous incarnations. They'd all fought and run together, even his beautiful, brave, broken Clara...

She'd collapsed again, just as victory seemed to be upon them. She'd been too weakened by her splintering amongst his timelines, this final battle had been too much.

And he was broken, too. The paradox of jumping into his timestream was tearing his cells apart, and he no longer had the strength to stop it. Two hearts meant twice the capacity to love, and twice the heartbreak.

The Doctor dimly felt himself falling to his knees on his grave at Trenzalore. He could not find it in himself to care. He'd promised to bring Clara back...he could no longer even cry.

Ignoring the fires building in his blood, he clutched his impossible girl to his chest, pressing his lips to her lifeless lips. Nothing could hurt her now. Nothing...

...and then the fires overcame him, and he knew nothing else...

The Doctor came to his senses slowly. He was lying on his back, and gradually recognized the ceiling as the engorged TARDIS that was his grave. Rage and disappointment flooded into him - what more did he have to do to finally rest?

He gradually became aware of a warm weight draped across his chest, a weight buried beneath a wealth of chestnut hair. Unwillingly his hand came up to brush the hair out of her face.

"Doc...tor..?" whispered a voice he never thought he'd hear again.

The Doctor closed his eyes, unwilling to let himself believe.

A trembling, tiny hand touched his chin.

"You look the same..." came that confused, tired voice. "All your other faces were diff'rent..."

**A/N Sorry this is a bit rushed, but I had a theory about how I'd LIKE the regeneration to go, and just HAD to get it written down. This takes place post whatever happens in the 50th Special. Let me know your thoughts!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Do not attempt to escape from your bed, Sir!"

When the Doctor next properly awoke, he immediately became aware of three things. One, he was lying in a bed. Two, the bed appeared to be in the Tardis sickbay. Three, there was a very small, very warm body pressed next to his.

He immediately tried to flail himself away from her and succeeded only in falling back against the pillow.

"Sir, I must insist you resume your tactical position!" Strax's face suddenly swam into focus, oddly at the Doctor's eye level. _I'm short now! _No, wait, he was lying down. Yes, that made sense. Wait…

"Straxy…" The Doctor cleared his throat. It felt like he hadn't spoken in a very long time. "How…what?" He tried to frame an intelligent question. It was harder than it should be.

A rustle of cloth drew his attention to his feet. Why was Vastra's voice coming from his feet? No, the foot of the bed. Yes, beds were good.

"We didn't know what to do when you came out of the…lightweb," Vastra explained, trying to find a suitable euphemism for the Doctor's final resting place. "We brought you back here to rest. Both of you," she added significantly.

Both of us? Yes, both. Warm body. "Cla..ra..?" he choked out, trying to shift around to look at her. A heavy hand pressed him back into the pillows.

"We did, of course, attempt to put you in separate beds," came Vastra's dry voice. "But it seemed to cause you both considerable distress." He pictured her non-existent eyebrows raised, and realized his vision was beginning to clear.

"You threw such a fit we thought you was havin' a seizure!" came Jenny's helpful voice. She sounded delighted at the thought.

The Doctor craned his head around to see the headboard, and realized two hospital cots had been shoved together. The movement drew a murmur of protest from the unconscious woman curled up beside him. The impossibility curled against him like a cat. He couldn't think about that yet.

Wait.

"Face?" he asked, rubbing his shaking hand over his features. "What face?" Jenny and Vastra exchanged a confused look. "What face?" he asked a bit more urgently.

"There's nothin' wrong with yer face, sir, see!" Jenny brought over a small mirror. The Doctor didn't remember ever seeing a mirror in Sickbay before.

What?

It made no sense. He was the _same. _Eyes, the _chin_, all of it. Except…what happened to…

"My hair?"

**A/N thanks for the support! I wasn't sure whether to continue or not but this came to mind. A bit less angsty than the previous chapter. **


	3. Chapter 3

The next time the Doctor woke up he was immediately aware of three things: his head had cleared considerably, Clara was no longer beside him, and all hell was breaking loose.

By all the running about and shouting the Doctor quickly surmised that Clara was not only absent, but apparently _missing, _and the TARDIS was being uncooperative in the search, making each corridor lead back to Sickbay. She was also shaking and rattling at random moments, apparently to add to the excitement.

_Good old Sexy._

With all the commotion, absolutely nobody was paying attention to the Doctor's attempts to extricate himself from the bed sheets. Strax had learned to swaddle, it seemed. At last with a flourish he managed to free himself, and flung himself from the bed, flailing his arms for balance – _huh. _He realized it was absolutely unnecessary, as his balance was remarkably improved. _That's new._

The Doctor made it to his bedroom with a minimum of fuss. The TARDIS was at least on his side today. After a much needed shower and change of clothing he felt much more himself again, though it would take him a while to get used to his new haircut. He hadn't felt so exposed since the days he wore black leather…

Reveling in his newfound coordination, he immediately headed for the Console. It was time, and past time, to leave Trenzalore.

* * *

It was in the kitchen, of course, that the Doctor finally found Clara. She was sitting curled up on the floor under the counter, and seemed dazed.

"Clara." She flinched from the sound of his voice. It wasn't until he crouched down to her level that he realized her face was stained with silent tears.

"O Clara," he said again, reaching out to touch her cheek. She stared at him blankly for a moment. Abruptly with a strangled sob she threw her arms about his neck, weeping so hard the sobs wracked her entire body.

The Doctor froze for a moment, then gently, almost shyly wrapped her in his arms. He stroked her back, her hair, anything to stop the storm.

She clung to him, like a lifeline, how long he couldn't be sure. Minutes? Hours? Her breathing finally slowed, her tense little body eased, and she fell asleep still in his arms.

So strange. He'd held her before, nothing had changed, yet everything now was so very, very different...


	4. Chapter 4

The next time everyone awoke was to the sound of bloodcurdling shrieks.

Clara was screaming in her sleep, and the Doctor had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

A whirlwind of activity surrounded her as Jenny and Vastra attempted to restrain her, while convincing Strax to _put-the-grenade-launcher-AWAY._ Clara thrashed in her sleep, obviously in the throes of some nightmare. Her face shone with sweat, wisps of dark hair curling against her face from the moisture.

Clearly Clara was NOT recovering from the events at Trenzalore. For a while she'd seemed to function, there hadn't been time for deep examination while dealing with the Daleks and Zygons, much less his darker self. He'd allowed himself to believe that she might survive the leap into his timestream unscathed.

And then the unspeakable had happened, and he'd lost his Souffle Girl again... _no._

The Doctor gamely waded into the fray, and gathered Clara up into his arms. She immediately quieted down, though her slight body still shook.

"Doctor," Vastra spoke into the sudden silence, "She cannot continue this way." It was true. Clara hadn't spoken to anyone since...since returning to the TARDIS, and it didn't appear she'd been eating, either. The Doctor himself was a bit unsure how much time had passed, since he'd been wasting an unusual amount of time in sleep himself, but she'd clearly lost weight she couldn't afford to lose.

"I know." The Doctor wiped his face with one hand.

"What's wrong wi' 'er, Doctor?"

The Doctor didn't know. What damage had he caused? Leaping into his grave, scattering herself along all his timelines. He hadn't gotten a straight answer out of her, over what exactly happened to her before she had found her way back to him, what she remembered, if her mind had been as broken as her body... The realization came unwilling to him, but he couldn't fight it. He was a danger to her. He would take her home, to the Maitlands. But first-

"Strax, fetch the memory worm." It would take a bite, he was afraid. Thousands of lifetimes gone in an instant, but no human brain could handle...

The Doctor was unprepared for the blow across his cheek. He was even less prepared when he realized it was Jenny's hand that dealt the blow, or the sudden fury that flashed across her face.

"Oi- what are you doing?!"

"No! Y' can't take away 'er mem'ries Doctor! It's 'er choice, Doctor! 'Ers!" Color rose in her cheeks but she stood her ground, chest heaving. Vastra stared at her in amazement.

"Jenny-"

"No!" Jenny stepped away from both of them. "Don't y' see, Doctor. Her mem'ries, you said it yerself, 'er _stories_, they're ev'ry thing she has, ev'ry thing she will be!"

"But she'll die. Again," the Doctor barely choked down the sob that threatened to break through. "I can take her home, she can live a normal life..." _Without me,_ went unsaid.

"That's 'er choice, then, i'nn't?" Jenny stared the Doctor and Strax down. "Li'l human girls, nice to keep as pets, but can't think for themselves... well, we don' need protectin' and we got a right to make our own decisions- don' cheapen '_ers._"

"Oh Jenny," breathed Vastra. The Doctor averted his eyes, and studied the face of the now quiet Clara. She lay so very still.

Vastra's voice startled him from his reverie. "There is something further to consider, Doctor." She and Jenny seemed to have resolved whatever tension was between them. "Returned to the Maitlands, with no memories of what has transpired will leave Clara particularly defenseless." That the Doctor's enemies could hardly be unaware of Clara's existence was left unsaid.

"Very well." The Doctor gently laid Clara back down, and stroked the hair out of her face. "Strax! Put the memory worm away!"

"What memory worm, sir?"

**A/N Prompts and reviews are very welcome. Jenny's voice is hard to capture for us American folks, I tried to give enough of the dialect to get the flavor yet still have it intelligible.** **The next update might take a bit of time as I need to do some research on a few classic Who characters.**


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor could not sleep anymore.

He could not face his dreams, but he didn't want to face his thoughts either. It was all his fault, of course. He had known, had known, despite Vastra's urgings, not to get involved again. He always ruined their lives, and it hurt so, so much. Amy and Rory, lost to the Angels. River. He couldn't think about River. Poor Peri, they told him she was married but he was never really sure what happened after the trial. Adric, dead. Katarina, dead. Donna, his best mate who could never remember him. Rose. _Oh Rose._ It had hurt so much to see her again…

The very best thing for Clara would be to take her home, never to disturb her again. But Jenny was also right, she would never be safe there .

He ran his hand through his hair dispiritedly. He still didn't know what was wrong with Clara. When she was awake, she didn't speak to anyone, but was lost in her own world, but slept far more than she was awake. Right now she stared unseeingly at the glowing center column. He had hoped the control room might spark a reaction out of her. Strax just scowled a lot, and Jenny and Vastra whispered worriedly together when they thought he didn't notice.

He needed advice. He needed… _He needed to get out of this damn blue box._

Thought giving birth to the deed, the Doctor leapt about the console, delighted at last for something constructive to do. Setting in the coordinates, he almost felt like himself again, the familiar thrum of the engines coming to life…

Shouts interrupted his reverie. Oh yes, he probably should have warned Strax and Jenny to brace themselves, he thought amusedly for the first time in what felt like years. He had forgotten that everyone had gathered in the control room. Then the shouts turned to cries of alarm.

"Doctor!"

The Doctor turned He stared, aghast. Clara's eyes were rolled back in her head as her body thrashed on the floor in some sort of seizure. Vastra and Jenny tried to hold her still while Strax was doing something with his medical scanner.

"Doctor, it's the time vortex!" Vastra cried.

Horrified, the Doctor leapt to land the TARDIS as quickly as possible. For once she cooperated and set down with barely a quake, the familiar _vwoosh, vwoosh_ almost like an apology.

Clara's labored breathing filled the sudden silence, then abruptly ceased. The Doctor turned in dread. _No-_

Strax pressed a button on his scanner and Clara started coughing violently. The Doctor rushed to her side, gathering her head into his lap.

"Shhh…Clara, can you hear me?"

Clara's eyes fluttered open for just a moment before one final cough shook her frame. The Doctor, Jenny, Vastra and Strax all stared in shock at the vapor of golden light that expelled from her mouth.

* * *

After settling Clara back into her bed in sickbay, The Doctor readied himself to face the world.

"Stay here," he told the three Victorians, not really expecting them to follow his instructions. Nobody ever followed his instructions.

"But Doctor, Clara…" Vastra began, but the Doctor cut her off.

"Don't let her wander off."

The TARDIS doors opened to reveal what appeared to be Earth. A sign on the corner read Bannerman Road.

**A/N Thank you all so much for the kind reviews (and prompt! I'm working on that one!)**


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor hoped he was dreaming, but the angry young man in front of him, on the steps in front of 13 Bannerman Road seemed very real.

"You're too late, Doctor."

Luke was older now. Maybe 20? Maybe older. The Doctor wasn't so good at judging human ages. Luke was no longer the young man who was born yesterday.

Sarah Jane was dead. He'd known, of course, that she would die eventually. That was why he'd left her, on Earth in the first place. Why he'd left them all behind. And Sarah'd thrived at the end, she had. What she had done here, in this house...

That first time he'd seen her again, he'd tried to hide from her, at first, when they crossed paths investigating that school. How happy, and how _angry_ she had been when she recognized him. He'd always thought he was doing the right thing making a clean break with her, moving on, but Sarah had proven him wrong.

"She never stopped waiting for you, you know" It was true. She'd seen immediately through his new face at his own funeral.

She had cancer. She hid it from everyone until the very end.

* * *

The Doctor stood outside, staring at the sunset, and remembering. How long he'd been out here, he wasn't sure. Hours perhaps. Jenny and, later, Strax had come out to check on him, but he ignored them. She'd been a part of his life for so, so long. She'd been feisty, just like another little brunette girl. Strange how these small women were particularly effective at worming their way into his hearts.

Sarah had been right. Leaving her behind hadn't been kindness, it had been cowardice. It hurt to see his companions grow older when he did not. When he left them behind he could go on pretending they were still out there, young and adventurous. Perhaps being alone was the answer, after all. If he was alone then nobody got hurt. But being alone was so, so very alone. And the moments of happiness were so very precious. Would he trade the wonder and joy on Clara's face when he'd pressed the TARDIS key into her hand? Would he trade the expression on Sarah's face when she managed to pull herself and the energy cable through the too-tight conduit? He should, he knew he should. _Maybe…_

Maybe it was time. He asked his companions to take all the risks, yet always protected himself. But isolating himself hadn't been the answer.

A small hand found its way into his. Neither of them spoke as they watched the sunset together hand in hand. Gradually a dark haired head rested on his shoulder.

The sun went down.

The Doctor sighed at last. He turned his head and kissed the top of her head, and gently led his Impossible Girl back into the TARDIS.

**A/N ****_Sorry this one is even shorter than normal. Still processing the announcement of Peter Capaldi. Since we won't see him in action (beyond the Christmas Special) for a whole year yet I'm continuing this story with the current status quo. _**

_**I think I could use a beta or two, please PM if you're interested! I need help with everything, not just grammar.**_

**RIP Lis Sladen. You are missed.**


	7. Chapter 7

When Clara woke up, the first thing she was aware of was _Tha-thump Tha THUMP, Tha-thump Tha-THUMP,_ repeating endlessly beneath her ear.

The longer she listened to the soothing sound, she became aware of more. The steady rise and fall of breath, the rough feel of wool beneath her cheek, the rustle of paper. A steady beeping noise. Bright light stabbed at her eyelids. Something was stuck to her arm.

Cautiously her eyes flicked open, and realized that she was lying on a hospital bed, a proper one in a real hospital. Sunlight streamed through a window of the private room, capturing little dust motes in the light. _Tha-thump Tha THUMP, Tha-thump Tha-THUMP…_

Clara studied the sparkling light for a while before investigating the rest of her surroundings. Fairly standard hospital, maybe a bit posher than she'd seen when Artie fell off his bike. Private rooms like this weren't generally covered by NHS. A monitor of some sort stood beside the bed, the source of the beeping. An IV stand was next to it, explaining the pull on her arm. Hospital gown, check. Blankets, check. Timelord, check. Timelord?

The Doctor, put down his book once he realized Clara was properly awake.

"Hi there," he said, smoothing the hair out of her eyes. He smiled down at her, but Clara could see the anxiety in his eyes.

Clara couldn't seem to get her voice to work properly, so she settled for an inquisitive raise of the eyebrows. After all, it wasn't everyday you woke up in the hospital. In bed with a fully-clothed Timelord. Who seemed perfectly content to serve as living pillow.

"Ah, yes!" he blustered, suddenly seeming to realize how compromising the position appeared. "You were having, ah, nightmares, yes…You slept more calmly when you were…ah…" he trailed off, a flush coming to his cheeks.

She slept more calmly when she could hear his hearts. She felt a faint blush heat her own cheeks.

_Tha-thump Tha THUMP, Tha-thump Tha-THUMP Tha-thump Tha THUMP, Tha-thump Tha-THUMP_ faster now.

"But you're blushing! That's wonderful!" The Doctor exclaimed. Clara stared up at him suspiciously.

The Doctor cupped her cheek. "Clara, you've been…um… You haven't been yourself lately."

"Ermf?" was the best Clara could manage.

"Clara, what do you remember?"

She frowned. What did the Doctor mean? She'd been falling…falling… so many faces, all of them him…and pain…_PAIN_

She vaguely heard the Doctor calling her name, then shouting for someone else. What was the matter? She could feel her breath catching in her chest as pain exploded in her head. The Doctor's face swam in and out of focus.

Clara wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a black woman in a white coat lean over her before the world went dark.

**_A/N Finally, Clara's viewpoint! Please do review, and I still am looking for betas. Thank you all for reading!_**


	8. Chapter 8

The Doctor had not slept since leaving Sarah Jane's - no, _Luke's_ house. He rubbed eyes and ran his hand over his head, still not used to the peach fuzz that had replaced his longer hair.

Clara was resting quietly in her hospital bed. Martha had assured him that she was actually improving. At least, her colour seemed improved. When he'd realized the Time Vortex had caused her seizure on the TARDIS he hadn't wanted to risk sickbay or even Strax treating her. A frenetic war council had resulted in Vastra and Strax being left behind to guard the TARDIS while Jenny and the Doctor borrowed Luke's car.

The Doctor remembered little from that frantic drive, but it must have been harrowing to leave Jenny so green about the gills.

He studied Clara. Her cinnamon hair was fanned out against the stark white pillow. _Like Sleeping Beauty..._he reflected, then wondered where that thought came from. Martha's examination had confirmed that, beyond dehydration, Clara was perfectly healthy. _Perfectly_ healthy- almost ridiculously so. Not even a single scar, no signs of ever even having a broken bone. Against his will, visions of the broken body he had carried away from Trenzalore haunted him. He blinked his eyes, trying to reconcile the blood he remembered on his hands against the sterile white of the sheets in front of him.

So what had happened to his Impossible Girl? And why, _why_ wouldn't she wake up?

"Doctor?"

Martha's voice startled him. Somehow he'd forgotten he and Clara weren't alone in the room. "You should get some rest. Or something to eat, at least." Martha had reacted to his panicked phone call with surprising calmness. Her years in UNIT and the ER had left her relatively unflappable. Or perhaps it was the year spent walking the Earth. Not even his new face had shocked her. He stared at her blankly.

"Go on then, Doctor, me n' Miss Clara will be fine 'ere." Jenny looked uncomfortable on the hospital chair she'd perched upon, but seemed resigned to it. "Nobody's gettin' by me," she asserted and the Doctor didn't doubt it, remembering Yorkshire.

Martha looped her arm through the Doctor's, and before he knew it they were walking down the hallway. "Who'd've thought, Smith and Jones together again," she murmured with something that sounded like amusement in her voice.

* * *

Vastra was growing restless. Babysitting the TARDIS and keeping Strax entertained were beginning to tax her already limited patience. A horde of children had spent the afternoon running and screaming around the strange blue box on the corner, and it had taken some convincing to keep Strax from dispersing the lot with tear gas. As a football bounced off of the doors for the seventeenth time that day, she pondered whether she had been perhaps a bit too hasty.

* * *

By the time the Doctor returned to Clara's room she had started to fuss again in her sleep, muttering unintelligibly under her breath. Jenny was holding her hand and looked relieved to see the Doctor return.

The Doctor resumed his old position, sitting up against the pillows and gathered Clara back into his arms, being careful not to jostle the precious IV. She quieted as her head settled against his chest. He ignored Martha's raised eyebrows.

"I never seen nothin' like it," he heard Jenny whisper to Martha. "Like a moth to a flame, jus' like the last one..."

"The last what?" Martha whispered back.

"The last Clara...it's kind of complicated..."

The Doctor tuned out the two women as he studied the tiny girl he held so carefully. A slight smile, barely perceptible had softly curved her rosebud lips. Something in her dream world state had pleased her. He wondered what was going on in her head. A stray lock had curled over one of her eyes. He brushed it away, her hair so soft in his fingers...

An awkward cough brought him back to the present.

"Doctor, I'm taking Jenny down to the cafeteria, can I bring you anything? You only had a bit of tea."

"What? No. No...hospital food, rubbish on every world," he answered absently.

Martha and Jenny exchanged a look before they quietly left the hospital room.

_**A/N Sorry it has been so long since updating! I was out of touch for a few days, and real life is taking up most of my creative impulses right now. ** **I'll try to update again sooner! A special thank you to my beta-readers- Krikanalo and Kosovaheartland! Any errors left in there are my own.  
**_


	9. Chapter 9

The Doctor was asleep when Clara opened her eyes. That was first thing she was aware of. She studied him for a moment. She had never seen this version of him asleep before. The worry lines that creased his face when waking, the pain in his eyes he thought he hid from everyone, were washed away with sleep, making him look surprisingly young and vulnerable. Well, young for a 1200 year old, especially compared to-

Her bladder interrupted that train of thought. Clara wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, IV drip, drip, dripping into her arm, but it was clearly long enough.

Her fingers twitched up to touch the soft, soft downy hair on his scalp. She'd been itching to do that since she first saw his shaved head. Clara felt the ghost of a smirk cross her lips. All that time she'd wasted teasing the Doctor about his _chin_, when those _ears _had been lying in wait all along...

She really, really needed the loo. She contemplated how to disentangle herself both from the equipment beeping merrily away and the Doctor, who was not beeping at present.

A quiet cough drew her attention. Poor Jenny looked terribly uncomfortable in the hard plastic chair that was standard issue in every hospital, and judging by her rumpled appearance hadn't had a chance to change clothes since...since...

Somewhere a little voice told Clara to stop that train of thought.

Okay, don't think. She could do that.

Clara looked over at Jenny and put her finger to her lips, tilting her head at the Doctor. Jenny raised her eyebrows, questioning. Clara gestured to herself and the IV stand, then pointed to the door she hoped led to the toilet. Jenny nodded in understanding, a wide gamine grin transforming her plain face to a thing of beauty.

With Jenny's help she extricated herself from the hospital bed and got the IV stand moving, managing to get to the door without major incident or waking the Doctor. So far so good. A few moments of privacy left Clara feeling much more herself, though she had to fight madly with the urge to jump into the shower, IV and all. Leaning on the sink, she took a deep breath and looked in the mirror.

She looked...good. Really good. Well, awful, if you counted the filthy, tangled hair and unflattering hospital gown. But...healthy. Glowing even. A bit thin, maybe, she thought, looking at the IV needle that still pierced her arm. Her mouth was quite dry. Greedily she filled and refilled the glass she'd found on the counter with tap water from the sink. No wine had ever tasted so good. Ruefully she admitted to herself she'd willingly wrestle an Ice Warrior for a toothbrush... but aside from the needle in her arm there wasn't a single mark that she could see. No bruises, no burns. Burns? _No, don't think of burns._ No broken skin. No scars. No scars?

What?

Clara stared at her reflection, disbelieving as her eyes traveled down her arms, her collarbone, and lower. She fumbled with the hem of the hospital gown, knocking the glass to the floor in her haste. Ignoring the sound of glass shattering, she stared at herself in alarm. _What the-?_

"Clara? Are you alright?" Jenny's alarmed whisper came from outside the door.

Clara didn't answer. It couldn't be. It didn't make sense.

"Clara? I'm coming in," Jenny warned her. Clara whirled to face her.

"My foot, I-" She had to stop to clear her throat, her voice rusty with disuse. Words felt strange on her tongue somehow. "I burned it years ago, spilled boiling water. It always left a mark..." Clara gestured to the smooth skin of her foot.

Jenny looked at her confused. "Clara?"

"My appendix scar?" Clara pulled the gown aside to show Jenny.

"Clara, what are you saying?"

"Clara."

She hadn't noticed the Doctor behind Jenny. Embarrassed, she dropped the gown back in place, grateful for the tiny shred of dignity left to her by her intact undergarments.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said in a small voice.

The Doctor gave her a strange look. "Clara," he said carefully, "What language do you think you are speaking?"

* * *

**A/N- Once again, thank you to all who have been following along this crazy tale! A special epic thanks to Kosovaheartland who beta-read this chapter. Any mistakes left in here are mine alone!**


	10. Chapter 10

Clara stared at the Doctor in disbelief. "You want to do this now?" she quoted. It seemed like several lifetimes ago. "Russian again?" she guessed. Not sure why the Doctor brought her to a Russian hospital, but it wouldn't be the strangest thing he'd ever done...a hysterical giggle escaped her lips before she could stifle it.

"No Clara, you aren't speaking Russian," the Doctor told her, still using that strange, careful tone.

"Well, then, what language is the TARDIS translating me into, then?" she asked, impatiently. Was this really that important? She shivered in her thin gown. And why was Jenny staring at her like she'd grown a third arm? This time she couldn't stop the fit of giggles that overcame her.

The Doctor didn't answer her right away. Carefully, carefully, he stepped over the broken glass to grasp Clara by the shoulders. "Clara, this is serious." She shook harder. "Clara!"

"Doctor?"

He cupped her chin with both hands, staring into her eyes.

Okay, this was getting just a little bit creepy. "What?" she demanded.

The Doctor took a deep, steadying breath. "Can you understand what I'm saying right now?" His voice was eerily calm, but there was an intensity behind his eyes Clara didn't recognize.

"Of course I can understand you. What is this all ab-?"

With a gasp the Doctor crushed her to his chest in a tight hug. Okay, hugging was good. Hugging was really good right now.

* * *

Vicki Acheson had been in labor for 8 or 9 hours. She wasn't quite sure how long it had been, since they gave her the good drugs she'd lost track of time a bit. She knew they were the good drugs because she was certain R2D2 had rolled past the maternity ward. Funny; Vicki was certain R2D2 only beeped and whistled, yet she was sure she heard the robot mutter "Primary target located!"

_**A/N So sorry this is so short! I'm down with the plague but I wanted to update you wonderful people with SOMETHING. Again, thanks to my lovely beta-reader Kosovaheartland**_


	11. Chapter 11

Clara seemed more comfortable to be in normal clothes again. Martha always kept a change stashed in her office, and the fit wasn't _too_ ridiculous on Clara. Funny how the Doctor had never noticed how tiny some of his companions were. He supposed Amy had raised the aggregate height across the board. Clara seemed particularly enamored of a well-worn dark red leather jacket, the smirk she gave Martha clearly saying "You might not be getting this back." That little smirk reassured the Doctor,more than anything Martha or Strax could tell him, that Clara was still Clara.

* * *

Vastra had waited until dark to make her excursion outside the TARDIS. Despite the infinite rooms onboard the time machine, sometimes the urge to feel earth, real earth, beneath her feet was unbearable. _You can take the lizard out of the swamp_...she thought to herself wryly.

The TARDIS was in a cooperative mood and complied with her wardrobe request, giving her the nondescript clothing she asked for: scandalously tight denim leg coverings and a simple, zipped overshirt complete with hood.

Wishing to avoid an argument with Strax, Vastra slipped quietly out of the TARDIS and into the cool night air. A light breeze tickled the top of her head before she drew up the convenient hood. She sniffed the air. Autumn.

* * *

"Are you sure I can't convince you to come home to dinner?" Martha was asking him. "Mickey and the girls would love to see you, you know. Hey, be nice!" She lightly punched him in the arm. He must not have hid his grimace at the mention of Mickey-the-Idiot quickly enough.

"Another time, I promise!" he told her. "I have to take this lot back before Jenny steals the crown jewels." Jenny grinned up at him over the screen of her "borrowed" iPhone unrepentantly. The Doctor made a mental note not to let Jenny get bored in the TARDIS, then remembered Strax and blanched.

Martha gave him a concerned look, then lowered her voice. "Doctor, what are you going to do now? With Clara, I mean?"

"Back to the TARDIS of course, and then, who knows?" he said evasively, refusing to see what she was getting at.

"Doctor, you do realize...I mean, traveling is..." She took a deep breath. "Clara may never...I mean, physically, she's fine, from what I can tell, but..." Martha didn't know how to tell the Doctor that Clara's recovery could go on for years, or that her mind might be permanently damaged. "Not everything can be healed, Doctor," she said softly.

The Doctor looked at her sadly. He knew, of course. "Then I'll take care of her."

Martha knew all too well the Doctor didn't do domestic. "For how long? Doctor, you-"

"She saved me over and over again, Martha. I can't leave her."

* * *

Clara felt tears suddenly come to her eyes, and she scowled to keep them from spilling down her cheeks. Martha didn't have shoes small enough to fit her, and she and the Doctor clearly hadn't heard her pad up to them in her bare feet, wondering what their intense whispered conversation was about. Guilt overcame her.

"Take me home, Doctor."


	12. Chapter 12

The Doctor drove Clara back to the Maitland's house. Neither of them said a word upon the entire car ride back.

On the doorstep the Doctor tried again. "Clara, please..." he began, but she just shook her head.

"Don't. Just...don't."

"Doctor!" Artie's voice called. "You have a car?"

Flustered, the Doctor turned to look at Artie. "How long have we been gone?" he asked him quietly.

Artie frowned for a moment. "I dunno- we got back from the cinema an hour or so ago."

The Doctor frowned. He'd judged the time a little too closely- had they come directly here rather than the hospital they would have crossed their own timelines.

"Doctor?"

"What? Oh, yes, Artie, I've owned many cars. None as pretty as Bessie, though," he said distractedly. "I borrowed this one from a friend."

"Oh." Artie lost interest.

By now Clara had disappeared inside the house. The Doctor stared at the closed door for long minutes before sadly walking back to Luke's car.

* * *

Strax was facing a tactical dilemma. Madame Vastra had escaped his custody at least two hours earlier, clearly with the collusion of the wiley blue box. The human doctor who wasn't The Doctor had distracted him with medical dispatches from the front regarding the boy Clara.

His duty had been clear. Protect the lizard, guard the box. Or was it guard the lizard, protect the box. Either way his mission just became far more complicated.

* * *

Clara barely made it inside the house before the tears started. All she wanted to do was run after the Doctor, but she couldn't do that to him. After all, she was born to save the Doctor, and she would save him one more time. Only this time she would save him from herself.

She would let him go.

The Doctor was too important to the universe to be tied to playing nursemaid to one fragile human.

No matter how much that fragile human needed him.

* * *

The Doctor made the long, lonely journey back to the TARDIS alone. Jenny had already returned before he'd taken Clara home.

River always said he should never be alone.

He really didn't know what to think. He'd been taken aback when Clara demanded to not only return home, but insisted she didn't want to travel with him anymore. He knew he'd damaged her, it was all his fault she'd ever jumped into his timestream. No matter how hard he tried, he always, always lost her. His "protection" was clearly useless. But somehow he never thought that spark of hers, that innate curiosity that drove her dream to travel could possibly ever go out.

Of course, the other option was not that she no longer wished to travel, but that she no longer wished to travel with _him._

_But then, wasn't some of this her fault, too? _His thoughts turned angry. _I never asked her to jump into my timestream, I begged her _not_ to! _

This was his original solution to the problem, wasn't it? Donna, she was happier now, wasn't she? To take her home, wipe away the damaging memories, leave her to her life... clearly she would have a longer, safer life without him.

But not like this. She was so..._frail._ Her body had healed- and _how_ had her body healed?- but how could he leave her like this? Even if this was her choice, was she in any condition to make that sort of decision?

The road stretched on while his thoughts continued to churn.

Clara was the first person who had spoken Gallifreyan to him in 300 years.

* * *

_**A/N: Yes, I'm over the plague, thanks for asking, dreamingofimpossiblethings! Please don't hate me for this one (hides under bed). Many thanks to Kosovaheartland, my lovely beta and to everyone who reviewed!**_


	13. Chapter 13

She'd been home a few days before the Maitlands started to notice something was... different... about Clara. Angie had noticed her "moping" around first. Clara did her best to hide her tears and and jumpiness from the kids, but there wasn't enough makeup in the world to hide her red eyes. Or the dark circles. She couldn't keep sleep for long, she kept waking up in a panic, terrified that she couldn't find the Doctor.

"What, did your boyfriend break up with you?" Angie asked snidely, the first Wednesday the Doctor didn't appear.

At least Angie hadn't noticed the visions.

At first Clara didn't pay much attention to the visions, as she privately referred to them. Sometimes there would be just a flash, a memory of an image that she couldn't quite place. Sometimes she would find herself performing a task she had never done before- when on Earth had she learned to crochet? She'd spent 30 minutes one afternoon trying to turn down the volume on the wireless before Angie took pity on her and gave her the TV remote. And she'd been genuinely shocked that cars in 2013 still used petrol- wasn't everything solar powered by now?

And _where were the jelly babies? _ This had caused an hour of frantic searching before Artie reminded her she didn't even _like_ jelly babies.

Sometimes she'd have a conversation with someone who wasn't there.

Sometimes she wasn't sure the people in front of her were real.

She remembered dying.

She very, very vividly remembered dying.

Some days were better than others. Martha had called a few times to check up on her, which was kind, but only reminded her of the Doctor. On bad days she would lose hours and have no idea what had happened. On a good day she could shake herself free with barely a pause.

It was almost enough to distract her from how much she missed him.

She knew she was getting better the day she saw a Dalek in the backyard, out by the trash cans. "You're not real," she told it, closing her eyes tightly until it disappeared.

She knew she still had a long way to go when she couldn't read her mother's souffle recipe.


End file.
